


Take Me Somewhere Nice

by ghostkiid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Band Fic, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Car Accidents, Depression, Drug Use, Humor, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Long Haired Keith, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, broganes, indie lance, punk keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-05-08 15:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostkiid/pseuds/ghostkiid
Summary: It's been 3 years since Keith's long term abusive-ex was killed in a car accident and he's done nothing but hide away in his apartment ever since.It's been 5 years since Lance's father died due to a suicide attempt and he never wants to get close enough to someone to lose them ever again.Full of jokes, tears, and pining idiots, Keith and Lance go on a weird up-down journey of self-discovery.As it's said; C'est la vie.Updates every other Wednesday.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ
> 
> I think this should go without saying but it's never okay to copy, reference, or steal someone else's writing.  
> That's what happened to my last fic and I took it down. If it happens with this one then I'll remove this one too and it will be my last.  
> Please don't just rewrite my fics again like that.  
> Anyways, thank you to everyone who enjoyed the last one and thank you to everyone who will enjoy this one.
> 
> Updates will be every other Wednesday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is a mess and Pidge and Shiro just want to help.

SUMMER 

 

The door opened and closed with a muted _click,_ followed by the sound of cautious footsteps crossing the floorboards that cried out softly under the weight. Plastic bags rustled as the groceries were set with a gentle thud on the island counter. Every movement was careful and calculated in an attempt to not startle the occupant in the apartment. It was a routine that Takashi Shirogane had grown accustomed to, as normal for him as it was to shower or go to work. Shiro began to empty the items from their plastic confines in order to put them away.

 

Every Sunday morning, Shiro would text his younger adoptive brother, Keith Kogane, asking him what he wanted from the store. Most of the time, it was the same junk he wanted for but he always asked anyways. If the elder brother was lucky, he’d be graced with a response within the hour, but on the bad days, and boy were there many bad days, he wouldn’t hear a word from his adoptive sibling. Today was one of the bad days.

 

For the first year that Keith had lived here, the apartment had barely looked lived in. Nothing had been moved or touched and a fine layer of dust had begun to cover everything. Keith didn’t leave his room and the door remained locked no matter how hard their parents had pleaded with him. After that, every Wednesday, their parents would come over and clean the place. Every Sunday they’d bring groceries. Eventually, just their mom would come until she got tired of dealing with Keith too and the responsibility rested on Shiro’s shoulders.

 

Things were… better now, in some ways. Keith now left his bedroom a few times a week and even regularly had Pidge over, whether that was by choice or because Pidge had made a copy of his house key aside, any improvement was an improvement no matter how small or forced. Granted, Keith’s apartment was often left in a disarray and he had a terrible habit of breaking things during panic attacks but it was progress in some sense. He would get better it just took baby steps. Patience.

 

Shiro came around the island to put the blueberry Poptarts away, almost tripping over his younger brother who had his arms hugged close to his chest and his head down. He was sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him and didn’t make any acknowledgement that he noticed Shiro, not even when Shiro had let out a small _‘oh’_ when he had noticed him.

 

The older brother moved to put away the rest of the groceries as quickly as he could without disturbing anything, or anyone, too much. He bent down then to retrieve Keith’s phone which had been thrown hard enough against the lower cabinets to shatter the screen. Shiro held down the power button in a weak attempt to see if there was any way it could be salvaged but all he got was a black screen with a few white lines insinuating that the phone was probably beyond repair. It wasn’t the first time that Keith had thrown his phone in a fit of anger but Shiro wasn’t sure he could afford to replace it nor did he think his parents would offer. Shiro wouldn’t ask them anyways; they had enough of Keith’s bills to deal with.

 

After sweeping up the tiny glass shards that graced the floor- if it weren’t for Shiro they’d never get cleaned up, Keith would just leave them there until he inevitably stepped in them-, Shiro took a seat on the floor next to his brother. He didn’t want to stay standing and tower over Keith. That typically only made him more skittish and nervous.

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Takashi asked him, keeping his voice low. Calm and calculated. Careful. Just like everything he did around Keith.

 

The violet-eyed boy next to him shook his head slowly but still didn’t look up. He did, however, pull his knees up to his chest and began to pick at the fabric of his sweatpants. Shiro wished he could read Keith’s mind, sometimes that would make all of this so much easier. He wished he could break down his walls, fix everything that Keith’s former partner had broken, clean up the mess like he had with Keith’s broken phone.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” The older Shirogane brother was worried about how Keith would react but he had to try. It had been three years and it was evident that things were not going to repair themselves.

 

Keith didn’t respond. Shiro took this as the okay to continue. “I talked to my supervisor today.”

 

Keith frowned. Even through the wall of dark hair Keith had used to hide his face, Shiro could still see the corners of Keith’s mouth pulled down into a frown. He didn’t like the idea but he wasn’t upset yet. He was still willing to listen.

“And they’re more than willing to give you an interview.”

 

Keith tensed. Shiro was treading on thin ice because anything could set Keith off these days. Anything could cause him to lash out. It was a constant tango of two steps forward, eight steps back. He didn’t want to push Keith any further than he was ready but it needed to be done.  

 

“Listen, before you freak out, you’d be working back-of-house. You wouldn’t have to deal with the public. All you would have to do is take care of the cats and occasionally fill out reports. It’s easy work Keith and you like cats!”

 

Shiro was still met with silence so he continued in hopes that he could do something to convince Keith that this was for the best. He needed to get back on his feet. He had three years to recover but their parents were always pushing Keith to get a job, to get back out there and Shiro was worried that if something didn’t change soon that his dad would finally lose it and kick Keith out of the apartment that they paid for. Shiro couldn’t support Keith by himself.

 

“Mom and Dad are getting older now Keith. They’re trying to save up for retirement but it’s really hard when they’re trying to support themselves and you. And I can’t support you all on my own either. There’s only so much I can do.”

 

Keith still didn’t say anything but Shiro could see him hug his arms closer to his chest.

 

“It’s been three years Keith. It’s time to start moving on. Life hasn’t stopped living just because you have.”

“No.”

 

Shiro blinked back in surprise. Keith rarely talked and it showed. His voice was raspy from misuse and it was so quiet that Shiro wasn’t sure he had actually ever said anything. “No?”

 

“I’m not ready.” Keith sounded so small and it broke Shiro a little more. He wanted to shield his baby brother from the world for just a little bit longer. He wanted to take away the pain, to fix all of this. No matter how hard he tried though, Keith wasn’t getting better.

 

Shiro sighed, running a hand through greying hair. He was 28 but he already had a stripe of white hair from the stress. “When are you going to _be_ ready Keith?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Well, I don’t want to push you but if it’s still this hard on you then maybe we should look into getting you a counsellor-” _Snap._

 

 _“I don’t want a fucking counsellor!”_ Keith screamed, kicking his leg out and hitting the cabinet door in front of him with a loud bang. It was hard enough to cause a crack in the wooden board. He dug his nails into his palms, his knuckles turning white. His breathing was hard and Shiro realized he struck a nerve. He was so bad at this. Three years and he still had no idea how to talk to Keith anymore.

 

Takashi winced at the sound. “Careful you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he whispered and gently reached out to put his hand on his younger brother’s shoulder who slapped it away in response. Keith moved away and curled in on himself almost as if Shiro had burned him. He pressed himself as far against the floorboards as he could, almost as if he was trying to melt into them, trying to disappear again.

 

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

 

Silence. Shiro wasn’t sure what to do that wouldn’t escalate the situation further than it already had. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could do or say that Keith would listen to and as much as he hated to leave Keith on his own, with no way to contact him if something went wrong, he felt it was the only was best to give Keith the space he needed to calm himself. He carefully moved to get off the floor, nothing too sudden so it wouldn't startle him even though Keith flinched anyways from his spot on the floor. Careful and calculated. Calm. Precise. Patient. Everything he did had to embody those virtues no matter how tired he was. He had to be the strong one. He couldn’t give up on Keith or fail him more than he already felt he had.

 

He was so fucking tired.

 

Shiro gathered up the plastic grocery bags, chucking them in the trash and opened up a few of the blinds to let some light in. He couldn’t imagine that it was healthy to sit in the dark all the time. He stopped in the door frame on his way out, looking back towards the kitchen even though he couldn’t see Keith from here. “Just think about it, okay? That’s all I ask,” he murmured, shutting the door behind him on his way out. He didn’t wait for a response because he knew he couldn’t receive one that wasn’t anger induced, if at all.

 

Shiro questioned himself. Was he being too hard on Keith? Was it too soon to be urging him into a job? Yes, it’d been three years and he felt as if it was enough time to recover, _there was never enough time,_ that Keith should be starting to get back on his feet but maybe it was too soon. He couldn’t imagine how Keith was feeling, how scared and confused he still must be. He couldn’t even remember the last time Keith had actually gone outside. Maybe this was moving way too quick. All the books he had read said that finding a stable job was a good place to start but getting Keith a job was pretty difficult when he was too scared to leave his own home. He’d start with getting Keith to go outside. Goal setting was important, that’s what all the online articles had stated. He’d bring it up Wednesday when he went to visit Keith.

 

Takashi was worried about leaving Keith alone without any means to contact anyone. He might even visit sooner but he was worried it might freak the younger Shirogane out if he broke the routine he had set. He would just bring it up on Wednesday, better not to upset Keith more than he already had.

  


“Should I get Keith a cat?”

 

Katie ‘Pidge’ Holt blinked at the question. It was a Sunday afternoon that Pidge had spent hunched over her computer when Takashi had called her. She had assumed it would be Keith related considering that this was the day that the older man typically coddled his younger brother. It made Pidge roll her eyes sometimes, how easy he could be on Keith. Keith didn’t need to be coddled, he needed to be shaken out of the stupor. Clearly, being patient and tip-toeing around him wasn’t working. He needed a firm hand but Shiro would disagree. This probably had something to do with the guilt that she knew ate him up.

 

“Um… no,” she replied. “That’s a terrible idea.”

 

Shiro sighed. “I know.”

 

“Keith can barely take care of himself. How do you expect him to take care of a cat?”

 

“ _I know_.”

 

There was silence that followed and Pidge waited for him to fill it. Silence with Keith could be deafening and she often found herself stuttering to end it. Silence with Keith left an uncomfortable air enveloping them, heavy with all the things left unsaid from the hurt of the past few years. Silence was Shiro was more comfortable. It typically gave Pidge time to gather her thoughts as well.

 

“I offered Keith a job at the animal shelter I work at. I figured it’d be low maintenance enough for him.”

 

It was the second time Pidge was surprised during the phone call. A job? Was a job really a good idea at this point? Keith couldn’t even leave his apartment long enough to do his own laundry. Most days he couldn’t even drag himself out of bed or even answer the phone. How was he supposed to be able to hold down a job? He hadn’t worked since _high school_ and that had only been part time at Target.

 

“And?

 

“He freaked out and curled up in a ball on the floor.”

 

Pidge snorted. “Of course he did. It’s how he reacts to everything.”

 

“He broke his phone again.”

 

“That’s not a first and if you replace it, it probably won’t be the last.”

 

“I’m worried about leaving him alone without any way to get ahold of me… what if something happens?”

 

Pidge groaned. “Takashi, you worry too much.”

 

“I just want him to get _better_ Katie.”

 

More silence and this one was heavy. Heavy with all the guilt and burden that Shiro had resting on his shoulders. She wanted to console him, tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That there was nothing he could have done differently to prevent this. It was sudden and gross and it _wasn’t his fault_. But she knew there was nothing she could say that she hadn’t already.

 

“I do too Shiro. I’ll go check on him tomorrow for you.”

  


Pidge shuffled the bags she had in her hands in order to retrieve the key she had in her pocket, managing to shove it into the lock and turn it, frowning when she found the door already unlocked. Keith rarely left his front door unlocked, ever so adamant to keep the rest of the world at bay. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had known Keith since they were kids and that their brothers were best friends, there’s a good chance Pidge would’ve given up. It hurts her a little to think about so she pushes those traitorous thoughts to the back of her mind.

 

She shuffles into the apartment, shocked by the fact that the blinds had been lifted, allowing actual light to come in. She was almost convinced that Keith had moved out or she had somehow wandered into the wrong apartment. She set the bags on the counter and strode over to Keith’s room. She turned the knob finding that it had been locked. _Ah_ so it looks like somethings don’t change.

 

Pidge softly rapt on the door with her knuckles. “Keith?” she called out. “I’m here. I brought food.”

 

She was met with silence, causing her to let out a small sigh. Why did he have to make everything so difficult all the time? She felt guilty thinking that. A part of her still hoped that all of this was some bad dream and she’d wake up to a reality where Keith hadn’t changed but it’s going on three years and Keith _has_ changed.

 

“C’mon Keith, open up. The food’s gonna get cold and cold take out is the _worst_ ,” she whined to deaf ears. There was no movement from behind the door, no clues that there even was an occupant resting on the other side. This was normal but Pidge would take drastic measures if she had to anyways. She didn’t have the infinite amount of patience that Shiro did. “Keith, open the damned door or I swear to god I will kick it open again!”

 

After a loud thud, heavy footsteps, and a lot of grumbling, the door swung open to reveal a very dishevelled Keith. He was wearing the same sweatpants he had been a week ago when she last saw him and the week before that and the week prior to that. His dark grey shirt was bunched up around bony hips that were sickly to look at and his hair had grown out well past his shoulders, greasy and knotted. There was blood on his palms which would worry most people but there had been days when Keith was a lot worse and a lot more bloody so this was an improvement.

 

“Katie, if you kick my door in-” She cut him off.

 

“What’s up butt-muncher? You look as shitty as ever,” she stated casually. She’d do anything to make things feel normal again. If she could just imagine that this was the Keith she knew back in high school who was a mess only because he was cramming for exams then things _almost_ felt normal.

 

Keith rolled his eyes, mumbling something about Pidge being a gremlin, shoving past her and making his way into the kitchen where the take out bags were sitting. He dug through them, pulling out the contents and Pidge could almost convince herself that things were normal again; that Keith hadn’t gone through the windshield of his ex's car, that he hadn’t almost died, that he hadn’t really holed himself up in his apartment for three years-

 

“Shiro said your phone was broken so I couldn’t ask what you wanted, hope chinese is cool with you,” Pidge stated. “I brought my N64 if you’re up for playing, if not we can binge watch _Star Wars_ again.” She grimaced when Keith pulled the lid off one of the containers with his teeth then rolled her eyes. Her best friend was an absolute heathen.

 

Normal.

 

“I broke my phone. It’ll turn on but the screen is busted bad. Not sure it can be fixed,” he stated simply, as if it was just an occurrence that most people dealt with on a daily basis. For Keith, Pidge supposed it was. “This is fine, thanks Pidge.”

 

The illusion was shattered. Keith was broken, as broken as the remains of his phone, and everyone was just walking on the glass, scared that it couldn’t be fixed or that they’d cut themselves in the process. She felt pity but if Pidge said anything it would just cause Keith to throw another tantrum. She was tired of the fits and she just wanted her best friend back

 

They sat on the couch and ate, watching Keith blaze through _Majora’s Mask_ considering he had played it multiple times. Pidge would occasionally have to stop and remind Keith that he could be focusing more on eating which usually resulted in the older boy rolling his eyes and making a remark about how Pidge was just like Shiro. He listened to her anyways.

 

“Shiro told me about the job,” Pidge stated.

 

Keith stalled his movements for a second before continuing. “Did he?” It sounded forced and there was a hint of a warning in there to not press the matter any further. That might’ve stopped Shiro but Pidge was typically more of the one for pushing-sometimes forcing- Keith out of his comfort zone. It wasn’t always the best idea and it left Keith with more than a few panic attacks, of which she felt sorry for, but constantly coddling him like Takashi had been wasn’t good for Keith either. Keith appreciated in his own way, needing the balance between the two of them to keep him grounded.

 

It scared her sometimes to think of what he would’ve become without them and Matt.

 

“I think it’d be good for you.”

 

“Katie.” Warning number two. She pushed still.

 

“Just hear me out. Matt and Shiro both work there so if anything goes wrong then you have them. You basically just get to pet and feed a bunch of cats all day. The only other person you have to talk to is Allura, who’s your boss and she’s like the nicest woman ever, trust me, I’ve met her.”

 

Keith didn’t try and stop her. He didn’t say anything really which was typically a good sign when it came to Keith. Nothing was better than having him lash out. Shiro was too much of a push over when it came to his younger brother, whether that be because of guilt or the bond the two had, she didn’t know but she did know that sometimes it was just better to jump in feet first. It was like ripping off a band-aid. He’d be alright once the shock wore off.

 

She didn’t want to watch the shell of her best friend walk around anymore and she felt guilty for thinking that too.

 

“You can’t live like this anymore Keith,” she whispered. She expected that to set him off, just like anything else could. Being around him was like walking on eggshells. Anything could scare him, anything could cause him to lash out, but all he did was sigh and set the controller down in defeat.

 

He was like a ghost.

 

“I know.”

 

“I know you don’t want counselling so I think this could be a good way for you to get back on your feet.”

 

Keith nodded in agreeance.

 

“You have to shower regularly though, preferably starting now. You reek dude.”

 

He rolled his eyes and shoved her off the couch. There was the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips though and that wasn’t something Pidge had seen in years. It was a reminder of better times.

 

It was a sign that he wasn’t devoid of life.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is struggling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup I'm working on an "The Last of Us" au  
> Probably won't post it until after I finish this one  
> I have all the chapters up to nine written I'm guessing this will probably be somewhere around 20 though.  
> Dope.

 

_ “Oh my god for the last fucking time, I’m not hiding anything on my phone!” Keith shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. He was so sick of this argument. They had it multiple times a week and it was so fucking exhausting. Who was Keith going to text? He didn’t have anyone else. Bert had made sure of that. _

 

_ “Then why don’t I fucking believe you?” Bert hissed, hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. It made Keith nervous and not just because Bert might hit him again. Arguing while driving was just going to put them both in a place neither of them wanted to be. _

 

_ Keith wondered where things had gone so wrong and felt as though he was operating on autopilot. He felt as though he was watching a complete stranger, that his actions weren’t even his when he rolled down the windows and chucked his phone out it. Someone honked in retaliation and all Keith could do was flip whoever it was off. _

 

_ “The fuck did you do that for Kogane?!” _

 

_ “Can’t be hiding anything if I don’t have anything to hide stuff on!” _

 

_ Bert let out a laugh, bordering on delirious and Keith continued to wonder how things had gone so fucking  _ wrong.  _ It wasn’t always this way between them and Keith wondered why he still stayed, wondered why he still put up with any of this. He wondered if he even loved his boyfriend anymore and he was scared because he didn’t like the answer that clawed its way to the surface of his brain. He wondered if Bert even loved him anymore. _

 

_ “You’re fucking crazy. You are actually insane,” Bert said in disbelief, throwing his head back in another laugh. _

 

_ Keith was about to say something else when a truck came hurtling towards them and he was screaming again, just not for the same reason he had been before. Bert didn’t even have enough time to react before the truck hit the beat-up grand am in the side and Keith went soaring. _

 

The violet-eyed boy woke up with start and he swore he could still hear the sound of the tires screeching ringing in his ears before he realized that it was the sound of his own screaming. He quieted down but he was still loud enough to wake up the neighbors dog who had taken to barking at the disturbance. He heard his neighbors yell at the dog to quiet down and pound a fist against the wall as a warning for Keith himself to quiet down as well. Keith curled in on himself and started sobbing. It had been three years and it still wasn’t any easier. The nightmares hadn’t quelled, still just as vivid as the day they had happened.

 

He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

 

Normally he’d call Shiro as some sort of grounding reassurance that he was okay, that it was over, that he hadn’t lost everything; that he hadn’t lost himself. He still wasn’t ready to talk about it but Shiro would talk him through it anyways, leaving empty promises that things would get better. Shiro couldn’t guarantee that things would ever be okay again but they still made Keith feel better, if only for a fleeting moment. After he’d gone and broke his phone again, he couldn’t have that. Why did he have to be so stupid sometimes?

 

Keith knew that he was only making the ability to recover harder on himself. He knew that what he was doing was destructive, that he should have seen a specialists weeks after the events but he didn’t know how to ask for help. He didn’t know how to ask for help after the fighting with Bert had gotten worse or when the arguing had turned physical. He didn’t know how to ask for help after the car accident that took his partners life and scarred Keith. It was three years now and he still hadn’t figured out how to ask for help.

 

He tried to take deep, even breaths but each intake was shaky and shallow, leaving him to break down into another fit of sobs. Crying made him feel weak, like he was drowning in his own self-pity, spurring on his anger. He was left feeling frustrated, teetering on the edge of wanting to rip his own hair out or suffocate on his own tears. It was a vicious cycle really. He wanted to be left alone to rot away but that would just be another form of self-sabotage.

 

He had promised Pidge and Shiro that he would try though. He would try to get better. He would try to mend the things that had been broken because it wasn’t fair to force them to keep looking after him like this and he owed them enough to at least try. It wasn’t fair that they had to watch him shuffle around his darkened apartment like a ghost. It wasn’t fair that they had to interact with the shell of someone they had once loved. It wasn’t the first time that Keith found himself wondering where things had gone so fucking wrong.

 

Keith was a fuck up. He fucked everything up. He wasn’t going to ever get any better. He was doomed to continue this rinse and repeat cycle of rising and falling. He was never going to be able to interact with the outside world again. He was never going to be okay. He was going to be a burden to his brother and his friends and his family and-

 

He took in a shaky breath, breaking that train of thought before it spiralled like his mind was. He felt like he was spinning, dizzy from the way he gasped for air like a dying man who didn’t know how to breathe. He guess that eulogy wasn’t too far from the truth.

 

Could he get better? How was he ever supposed to hold a job if his hands shook with the thought of leaving the house? How was he supposed to become a functioning human being again when he couldn’t even muster up the energy to shower, let alone get out of bed most days? After three years could he even remember what it felt like to function? What it felt like to be alive?

 

Keith wanted peace, craved it more than dehydrated dog craved water. He wanted his old life back but he could barely remember what that was like. Who he was didn’t feel like  _ him _ . He didn’t even know if he could be that person anymore so was it even worth it to try? He felt like he was drowning in pity and regret and depression and fear and anger and-

 

If he could just go back-

 

If he had done something different-

 

If he could do it  _ over _ -

 

He choked.

 

_ Inhale. _

 

_ Exhale. _

 

He just had to focus on those dumb breathing exercises Shiro had taught him when he had panic attacks. Was he having one now? He couldn’t tell anymore. His entire life- if it could even be classified as that anymore because this sure as hell wasn’t living- felt like one huge wave of panic that just kept crashing down on him. He was crushed under the waves. He wanted to get better but first he’d have to figure out what better was first.

 

_ Where had things gone so wrong? _

 

Keith slid out of bed on unsteady legs. Unsteady just like everything else in his life- from his income to his brain, he lacked stability. He dragged himself into the bathroom. It was small with barely enough room to shuffle around from the shower to the sink but it wasn’t like Keith needed much more, or that he could  _ handle  _ much more. He leaned against the edge of the sink, arms trembling like he could collapse at any minute. He felt sick and it was more often than not that he woke up like this; sick and sad and scared. Too sad to get out of bed and too scared to look in the mirror.

 

He turned on the sink, splashing cold water on his face to help cool his heated skin. Did he dare bite the bullet and look up? What would he find looking back? Would he even be able to recognize himself after all this time?

 

The eyes that gazed back were more grey than violet and that scared him. His skin was pale and lacking in color, his hair longer than his liking. It was knotted with split ends and fell well past his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually cut it. He had dark circles under his eyes from every restless night that haunted him. He was thin and all the muscle he had worked to build up back in high school seemed non-existent. It was almost as if it had never been there at all. Multiple scars littered his body but the worst of them was the long jagged cut that started at his cheek bone and continued all the way down his neck to the back of his shoulder. It was the result of crashing through the windshield of his ex-boyfriend's car.

 

The mirror itself has multiple long cracks going through it from a time a few months ago when he had punched it out of anger. He hadn’t looked at himself since, choosing to typically keep the mirror covered. Now, it just reminded him of everything else that was broken in his life; his cabinet, his phone,  _ himself _ . Of course, all of these things could be replaced but Keith couldn’t.

 

Keith turned on the shower, letting the water heat up to near boiling before he stepped in. He preferred hot showers. It was almost as if he could scrub all the hurt and clean himself of everything that had happened. It was a habit he had taken to after the accident, as a way to rid himself of the crimes he felt he had committed by killing his ex-boyfriend in the accident. It was as if it could take away every hurtful thing he’d said. He could wash away his ownership. He stood there for a long time, letting the water cascade down his back for almost 40 minutes before he finally made a move to wash his matted hair. He’d have to do something about that later.

 

After an hour, he stepped out of the bathroom quickly, hands clenched in fists in an attempt to keep himself from doing something drastic. He’d already disturbed his neighbors enough as it was tonight, he didn’t need to make it worse. His parents wouldn’t be happy if he got himself kicked out of the apartment they were kind enough to pay for after he refused to move back in with them. He knew how they struggled to provide for both Keith and themselves but Keith had to keep being selfish and breaking things. He didn’t understand why they didn’t just cut him off already. It wasn’t as if they owe him anything. He wasn’t even their real blood, he had been adopted at the age of two. He wasn’t their only son; Shiro was the one doing them proud. He wondered how they explained their younger son’s situation to their friends, if they had any sort of pride when their co-workers asked about him.

 

He checked the clock on the microwave in his kitchen. It blinked back three am in glaring green numbers. It was Tuesday morning and Shiro wasn’t coming to see him today. He would be alone. He had no way to call Shiro and beg for him to take off work to come see him like he sometimes did. It was a selfish request and Shiro always followed through no matter what kind of trouble he got into for it. One day Shiro was going to end up losing his job because of Keith and then they’re really be in trouble. It was kind of fucked up that no matter what, Keith’s friends and family would bend whatever rules they had to for him. It was more fucked up than Keith was and he knew it was all because they felt guilty that they couldn’t have done anything to prevent this.

 

The only problem with that was that it was all Keith’s fault. No one wanted to pin the blame on the ‘victim’ though.

 

If he had just-

 

If only-

 

Maybe things would have been different-

 

_ Inhale. _

 

_ Exhale. _

 

Keith could get as pissed as he wanted or cry about it but it wasn’t going to change anything that happened. The past was the past but then why did he still feel so stuck in it? Why was he forced the relive the accident every night for the past three years? Why couldn’t anyone just  _ understand- _

 

He needed to stop. Thoughts like this weren’t going to make him better and he wanted to get better in some weak attempt to repay Shiro for all that he’d done. If Shiro hadn’t been there he surely would have let himself rot away into nothing. He felt so disposable.

 

Keith could get better; he would get better. He was going to try and he was going to stop relying on others so much. He could do this on his own. He had already taken so much from everyone that he didn’t feel right in asking them for anything else. Relying on others just made him feel gross, especially when everything they did was in vain.

 

He collapsed on the couch, switching on the TV to reruns of the Office because he knew he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep tonight. He mulled over how to fix the rut he had dug himself into, if he could really follow through on his plans. It wasn’t the first time he had made empty promises to fix himself. It probably wouldn’t be the last. He chewed on the ring in his bottom lip as if it somehow held all the answers. He was a desperate man.

 

_ You can’t live like this anymore Keith. _

 

Pidge wasn’t the first person to tell him this. Keith had told himself that very same thing time and time again. He told himself that what he was doing wasn’t fair to any of the people that loved them but they  _ didn’t understand _ . He didn’t know how to make them understand and he was so frustrated. He was frustrated with himself and he was frustrated with  _ them  _ which just made him more frustrated because he shouldn’t blame them. It wasn’t their fault.

 

Keith was so fucking tired. He couldn’t imagine how Shiro must be feeling.

 

Maybe getting a job was a good idea. Keith wasn’t sure that he could handle keeping a job but he had to get back out there somehow. He’d find something laid back and only part time if he could help it. Even if he couldn’t keep it, at least he had tried and maybe it would be enough to spark something in himself that he had lost. He wouldn’t take the job Shiro offered him though. It would reflect poorly on his older brother if Keith fucked it up and he always managed to fuck up everything he touched. Shiro would have to take the blame for recommending him for the job and Keith couldn’t make things harder on Takashi than he already had.

 

He’d start looking tomorrow… or maybe the day after that. He’d do it soon at least before he lost the nerve and continued to rot away in his apartment.

  
  


Keith took back everything he said. It was hot out, hotter than he remembered it  _ ever  _ being but Keith hadn’t been outside in quite some time. He wasn’t used to being anywhere that wasn’t dark and air conditioned. The sun was coming down hard and it was blinding that Keith had to squint the entire time he walked through the downtown streets. He had only been out for 15 minutes and he already wanted to tuck tail and bolt. He had to constantly remind himself that he was doing this for Shiro and his parents who had already sacrificed so much. 

 

He was lucky enough to have already picked up applications from two places; a retail store and a library. He figured they’d be low maintenance enough that he could handle them, if only for a little while. He contemplated skipping out on the retail store, he had read the horror stories online but beggars can’t exactly be choosers. Although, it wouldn’t do him any good to force himself between a rock and a hard place. 

 

He wanted to get a least one more application before he headed back. The more he had, the better his chances, especially when he lacked a stable list of references. Worst case scenario, he wouldn’t hear from anyone, he could tell his family he tried, and go back to sulking in his apartment. Best case scenario, he could get the job, end up getting fired in a week because he wasn’t really a functioning human being, tell his family he tried, and go back to sulking in his apartment. Both outcomes were fairly ideal in his mind. Maybe then everyone would realize that he was a lost cause and finally give up on him.

 

It was a locally owned coffee shop that caught his eye. There weren’t a lot of people there considering most would prefer to go to the Starbucks a block over, and it held a bright red help wanted sign in the window. He walked into a big space with tables and chairs pushed against the walls. He walked up to the blue-haired barista who greeted him with an easy-going smile.

 

“Hi, what can I get you?” She had a pleasant voice, soft enough to Keith’s ears and she seemed pleasant. Plaxum, he name tag read. That was unique.

 

Keith pointed toward the sign in the window, not exactly the best when it came to social interactions but he figured that was the best way he could explain what he was looking for. Blunt and straight to the point. “Could I get an application?”

 

“Mhm,” she chirped with a nod, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a sheet of paper. “Here you go! Anything else?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Alrighty then! Have a good one.”

 

Keith nodded back in response. “You too.”

 

He left and that was that. So far, he had three different conversations, although brief and all being about work, with three different strangers. That was more than he’d had in awhile and he was slightly proud of himself for managing to be so productive. If this was all he managed to do, if this was as far as he could get then he was at least a little proud of himself. 

 

Of course, that was short lived because on his way home he begun to feel exhausted. He set the applications on the counter and convinced himself that he’d take care of them later. He collapsed on his bed, shoes still tied to his feet, too drained to do anything about it. It didn’t matter though because he had gotten the applications and talked to people he didn’t know without having a panic attack or wanting to rip his hair out. He felt accomplished even if he never managed to fill out any of the applications.


	3. Three

Shiro let himself in on Wednesday when he showed up at Keith’s apartment. Nine am, just like he had every week for years. Shiro never knocked, he had a key to the place and Keith always knew when he was coming; he had never been late. Even if he did knock, it wasn’t as if Keith would get up to answer him.

 

Keith was nowhere to be seen when he entered. Shiro checked behind the island to make sure that Keith wasn’t lying on the floor like he had been on Sunday when he had dropped in. He had no doubts that Keith would lie there for three days; he had seen him do it before. Luckily for Shiro, he wasn’t. He was about to get to cleaning, assuming Keith was in his room- he wasn’t on the couch either- when he noticed a stack of papers on the counter with a frown. He picked them up and scanned them over. Job applications. When had Keith left? The idea of Keith leaving his apartment without Shiro knowing made his skin crawl. He could get  _ hurt _ . Keith wasn’t capable of taking care of himself, he had made that evident. It made Shiro sick to think that Keith could have walked off and not come back and no one would be none the wiser. He had done it before.

 

Normally, Shiro would begin cleaning up Keith’s apartment but he had this itch that made him want to check on Keith. He moved over to the bedroom and rapt softly on the door with the back of his hand, awaiting an answer but only being greeted with silence. Typical.

 

“Keith? It’s me, are you alright?” Shiro called.

 

Nothing. Shiro frowned. Now wasn’t a time for him to be comfortable with Keith’s lack of communication. God damn his difficult little brother.

 

“I saw the applications on the counter. If you want a job Keith I told you I could get you one at my work.” That would be preferred. At least then he could watch over Keith in case something happened.

 

More silence. Shiro sighed.

 

“Keith, open the door. I want to talk.”

 

There was no sound, no indication that Keith was behind the door. He still didn’t say anything. On any other given day, Shiro would have left it at that, cleaning up and then leaving. He would have just left it up to Keith having a bad day.

 

“Keith open the door or I’ll call Katie and have her kick it down-”

 

The door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thud that both of the boys winced at. He was greeted with a very tired looking Keith although one that looked cleaner than usual and managed to change into a different pair of sweatpants. How many pairs of sweatpants did he even own?

 

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “It was so hard to fix last time.”

 

Shiro snorted. “I know. I was the one who fixed it.”

 

“Matt helped too,” he mumbled, looking down.

 

Shiro hesitated before continuing. “So the applications-”

 

Keith sighed, interrupting him. “Don’t worry about them.”

 

“When did you leave-”

 

“Yesterday.”

 

“ _ Keith _ .”

 

Keith frowned, looking frustrated even though he refused to meet Shiro’s eyes. “I went outside and picked up applications  _ myself.  _ I thought you’d be proud of me.”

 

Guilt. Shiro always felt guilty whenever it came to Keith. Guilt that he couldn’t do more for him. Guilt that he couldn’t protect him. Guilt that he couldn’t just make everything bad go away. Now he felt guilt because he was scolding Keith when he was just trying to be independent. “I’m sorry. I am proud. How do you feel?”

 

“Exhausted.”

 

“That’s nothing new.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “I forgot how draining socializing with other people is.”

 

“Retail is just going to make that worse. Are you sure you’re up for something like that? You haven’t worked in awhile, let alone left your house.”

 

Keith cringed, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. “Yeah, I was thinking about throwing that one out.”

 

“Well don’t do that. I’ll help you fill them all out. You may not even get an interview and if you do, you can turn it down if you don’t want to do it.”

 

Keith worried his lip ring, not meeting Shiro’s eyes. “I think I may throw them all out.”

 

Shiro sighed. “Keith don’t do that. If you’re nervous about working then you can come work with me and Matt.”

 

“I just don’t know if I’m ready for a job yet.”

 

Pidge would be harder than Shiro was on Keith. She’d sit him down and force him to fill them all out then drive him to drop them all back off. Shiro didn’t know if he could be  _ that  _ stern but he could at least push Keith in the right direction. “I’ll help you fill them all out Keith. Like I said, you may not even get the job. I’m still proud of you for trying. Okay?”

 

Keith still refused to look at Shiro but there was the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “Okay,” he murmured. Progress.

 

Keith suddenly regretted everything. He regretted ever picking up any of those damn applications because he never actually thought he would get far enough to turn them in, let alone fill them out. He thought doing all this would be a good idea but it was so much easier said than done and he regretted his actions almost instantly. Sure, Shiro helped him but he it just made Keith realize how pitiful his life actually was. Now, here he was, being dragged along by Pidge to go turn in all three of the applications much to Keith’s very evident displeasure.

 

Pidge had wanted to drive but Keith was still too nervous to get into a car. He hadn’t been in one since the accident and he wasn’t about to start now. It was still hot out and Keith missed air conditioning but he couldn’t muster up the strength to get in an actual car. It felt like the past few years hadn’t even really happened and his wounds were still fresh.

 

He was also forced to wear actual jeans. Keith couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn something other than sweatpants or superhero pajama bottoms- he wasn’t sure why he owned so many superhero pajama bottoms but he owned at least five pairs. Jeans were so tight and restricting and Keith was hating every damned moment of this. Why had he thought picking up applications was a good idea? He just wanted to go home and let another three years of his life pass him by.

 

Keith worried because he couldn’t put his phone number on any of the applications and asked if it would ruin his chances of actually getting a job (or help him continue to run away from his problems) but Shiro assured him that just putting his email would be fine. The only problem was that Keith didn’t have a computer or wifi for that matter. Pidge suggested that he go to the library regularly to check but that would mean leaving his house too frequently for his liking so Shiro offered to do it for him and would stop by as soon as he heard anything.

 

An irritated teen at the retail store took his application with barely a glance, shoving it in a drawer. He doubt anyone would actually ever look at it. It was one less interview he had to stress about though.

 

The older woman in the library at least gave him a smile when he handed her his application. She put it in a tray along with several other applications that would undoubtedly take priority over his. She was nice about it though and that made Keith feel a little bit better. Her name was Jane and he sort of hoped he’d get the job there because he decided that he liked Jane.

 

Plaxum was still working the counter when Keith entered. It was a Thursday and so far, Keith had yet to see any other actual employees. Keith hadn’t decided if that was a good or a bad thing. The place was quiet though and Plaxum gave him another smile when she saw him enter so he figured it couldn’t be that bad to work in a place like this. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the prospect of having to make other people’s food but maybe with Plaxum and the lack of customers it would be alright.

 

He handed her his application and she took it, shoving it in a drawer just like the teen at the retail store had, albeit a bit nicer. It still made him nervous to think it would just get left there. Fuck his anxiety.

 

“Does anyone else actually work here?” he found himself asking.

 

Plaxum nodded. “Yeah, the owner comes by and takes a few shifts on the weekends but that’s about it. It’s a relatively new place.”

 

“Wow, you run this place by yourself?”

 

“Mhm, it’s not so bad though. It’s just hard to compete with the big corporations like Starbucks and Tim Hortons. It’s better here though, we have live music sometimes. We only take local groups, so it’s fun if you’re into that.”

 

Keith perked up at that. He’d always loved music, dreamed of being in a band but never being able to pull the trigger. He never knew anyone else who had the same passion that he had for music except for his ex-   
  


He didn’t want to think about Bert.

 

“That’s cool.” Keith had never been good at social interactions and he was even worse now that he hadn’t communicated with someone that wasn’t family or the Holts who were just his second family. “Well… bye then.”

 

“Yep! Hopefully I’ll see you around. Bye!” she said, just as chipper as ever as she leaned against the counter on her elbows, chin resting on the palm of her hand.

 

He liked Plaxum. She was quirky but she seemed sweet.

 

Keith exited the building, the bell above the door ringing on his way out. Pidge was leaning against the building, arms crossed as she scrolled through her phone, waiting on Keith. She looked up once he was outside.

 

“Ready?” she asked to which Keith replied with a nod.

 

They started the trek back to Keith’s apartment and he was dreading the emails. He couldn’t escape them if they were going to Shiro. His fate had been decided and he pleaded to whatever cruel deity may be out there to spare him, let each place lose his application somehow. At least then he could say he tried and Shiro would still be proud and leave him alone.

 

Or what if Shiro expected more of him now? Now that he proved that he could be out in the world, what if Shiro expected this to continue? What if he would just make Keith apply for more jobs until he got one  _ and  _ could hold it? What if he expected Keith to start doing more things on his own? What if he urged him to start  _ dating  _ again?

 

Keith felt ripe with panic at the thought of that. That was something he most definitely could not do. He didn’t want to deal with the pain of arguing and inevitably losing another lover because he was most definitely a fuck up. He was a fuck up before the accident otherwise things wouldn’t have escalated with Bert like they had. He was even more fucked up now and there was nothing that could fix his brain. It was all screwed up and scrambled. He didn’t want this cycle to repeat. He’d die alone if he had to. It was scary how much more comforting that was.

 

Keith lazily surfed through different channels, settling on more reruns of the Office. He had probably seen every episode 17 times, could tell you the middle names every single character, but that didn’t deter him from switching it on. Pidge, on the other hand, sighed. She was sick of the show but she didn’t have much say in the matter considering it was Keith’s TV and she was busy clacking away on her computer. Keith had no idea what she was doing considering she couldn’t be on the internet, he didn’t have access to it. He assumed she must have been writing a report for a class or coding in one of the many programs she had on her laptop. He’d never understand any of that shit.

 

“They do local shows there,” Keith stated, not bothering to peel his eyes away from the TV screen to look at his friend.

 

“Hm?” Pidge asked. She didn’t glance up from her laptop either.

 

“At the coffee shop I applied to. They do local shows. Music.”

 

“That’s cool.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Do you regret it?” the young engineer asked.

 

“Regret what?” Keith replied with a frown, finally looking over to his friend who didn’t return the gesture.

 

“Giving it up. Music. Playing bass. Do you regret any of that?”

 

Keith looked back at the TV screen. It was one of the earlier episodes where Jim moved to the Standford branch and decided to put all of Andy’s things in Jello. Then when Andy finds said things in Jello, he freaks out. Keith was never a big fan of Andy but there were characters he disliked more than him. Andy’s middle name is Baines.

 

“Yeah,” he finally answered candidly. Jim’s middle name is Duncan.

 

“Get back into it.” 

 

“Huh?” Pam’s is Morgan and Ryan’s is Bailey.

 

Pidge sighed, exasperated. She rolled her eyes and looked up from her laptop. “Start playing bass again idiot. Maybe it’ll, I dunno, help you.”

 

Keith snorted. “How is playing the bass going to help me?”

 

Pidge groaned. “I don’t know dude. It was just a suggestion. You were always so into music and now you just watch the Office over and over again and never leave the house. I’m begging you, please do something before I throw myself off of the roof of your apartment building.”

 

Keith clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I do more than just that.”

 

“Like  _ what _ ?”

 

Keith hesitated. “I watch Parks and Rec too…”

 

“That’s basically the same fucking show Keith.”

 

Keith shot up, glaring at his friend who continued to type away on her laptop, seemingly unphased by the fact that her friend was plotting her murder. “The  _ fuck  _ it is.”

 

“Don’t they have the same cast?”

 

“I swear to fucking  _ god  _ Katie I will choke you.”

 

Pidge snorted. “Kinky.”

 

Keith groaned and flopped back down on the couch, throwing an arm over his face. “I hate you. Leave.”

 

“No can do sunshine, you’re the prisoner and I’m the warden for the day.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“Why do you think Shiro and I don’t let you have shoelaces? The slip ons aren’t just a fashion statement Keith.”

 

Keith moved his arm enough to shoot her a glare. “ _ I hate you _ .”

 

Pidge threw her head back and cackled. Keith decided that she wasn’t just a gremlin but also a witch and he wondered why he ever put up with her sass. She had so much evil in her for having such a small body. Then he thought about the tiny high schooler who’s eyes lit up every time she got to eat peanut butter straight from the jar and Keith felt himself soften a little. 

 

His chest ached when he thought about the fact that the only reason she was so cold now was because of him. Of course Katie had to be the first one to rush to the hospital when he got injured and she had to see him looking lifeless. She had never been the same since.

 

“Keith, I will literally buy you dinner for the next two weeks if we can watch something other than the Office.”

 

Keith moved to pick up the remote.

 

“ _ And  _ Parks and Rec.”

 

Keith set the remote back down and Pidge sighed.

 

“Boy you are  _ hopeless. _ ” Pidge winced, regretting it as soon as she said it when she saw Keith tense. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“It’s fine Pidge, I know.”

  
  


_ Keith giggled, throwing his bent legs up and into his boyfriend's lap. He leaned back against the car’s interior. They were parked on a street a block away from Keith’s house where he still lived with his parents. Most days, Keith stayed at Bert’s place but Keith’s mom wanted him home and Bert was kind enough to drop him off because Keith didn’t have a car yet. He still didn’t want to go back, having too much fun with his boyfriend to care about his worrying family. _

 

_ It was 10 pm on a Sunday night and he was supposed to have been home an hour ago but instead he was crammed in the back of Bert’s car with him, a joint between his lips. His parents would disprove. Keith knew that when he walked through the door, reeking of weed and covered in hickies, that he would be grounded. It would just lead to another fight because Keith was 18 now and he could do whatever the hell he wanted but his parents rightfully disagreed. _

 

_ Keith inhaled then wrapped his fingers around the back of his partner’s neck, leaning in to blow the smoke into his mouth which Bert happily accepted. He took it a step further by locking their lips together and next thing he knew, Bert’s hands were on his thighs then his hips. He shifted so that he was sitting in his boyfriend’s lap, hands caressing his face and attempting to keep the burning joint he still had in his fingers from scorching Bert’s face. Bert rubbed soothing circles into his hipbone and Keith wanted to take this even further but he was gently pushing Keith off of him instead which the younger boy griped about. _

 

_ “Come on baby, I’ve got to get you home,” he said, taking the joint from Keith and sticking it in his own mouth. “Your parents are probably worried,” he mumbled as best he could with the joint intruding. He climbed into the front seat, starting up the car. _

 

_ Keith pouted but followed him, sitting in the passenger’s seat. He went to grab the seat belt but then remembered that the passenger’s side seat belt had broken a while ago. Bert’s car really was a piece of shit and Keith vocalised this regularly. _

 

_ Bert rolled his eyes. “I know baby. How could I forget when you’re kind enough to remind me  _ every day _ ,” he stated sarcastically. He shifted the stick into gear. It was a stick shift. Who even drove a stick shift anymore? _

 

_ “Can’t I stay with you longer?” _

 

_ Bert sighed. “No can do sugar. I promised your parents I’d have you home-” He checked the time on his phone. “Over an hour ago. Shit. I’ll come get you this weekend, I promise.” _

 

_ Keith rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “You kind of just proved that you suck at keeping promises.” _

 

_ Bert chuckled. “Aw, come on I’d never let down my favorite boy. I’ll pick you up friday, I swear.” _

 

_ He reluctantly agreed and Bert flashed Keith a blindingly white smile in response and he loved it. He was too far gone to give a shit about anything else. _

  
  


Keith awoke with tears streaming down his face. He wiped them on the back of his hand and sat up as best he could when his arms were trembling so bad that he felt he’d collapse at any minute. His chest hurt, it yearned for the days when things weren’t so fucked.

 

It was the first time he had had a dream about Bert that didn’t involve the crash and somehow it was more painful because no matter what shit had happened he  _ missed  _ him. He didn’t have the chance to make up with him and if only they had had more time then maybe they really could have fixed things because Keith was fucked up and still loved him no matter what  _ and his chest fucking hurt so bad _ .

 

He couldn’t help it. He collapsed into a fit of sobs, wishing for things he could never again have.


	4. Four

 

Lance McClain had started playing guitar from a young age, picking it up from his dad. His father had always loved music and, in some sense, it was sort of genetic considering that Lance had inherited the same passion. Most of his time that hadn’t been spent in school was spent playing the guitar and singing, whether it be at home or during the lessons that his parents had scraped money together to pay for.

 

It was also the one way that Lance could connect to his late father.

 

When Lance was younger, his father had been diagnosed with depression. He hadn’t understood what that meant at the time. It started out easy enough- as easy as depression can be, that is- but then the medical bills got more expensive and his dad couldn’t hold a job so Lance was forced to watch his mother struggle from an early age. There were days when he just wanted to rip the bed sheets off his father, scream at him to get up and do something because he couldn’t understand  _ why  _ he was letting his happen to their family.

 

After all the medications and therapy, it was impossible for them to pay for Lance’s lessons and he had given up playing the guitar in exchange to take up a job just to help his family get by. He took up the job that his father  _ should  _ have been doing and it caused resentment- a rift. Music became something he lacked love for.

 

Eventually, Lance matured and he understood more clearly the war that waged inside his father’s head and it didn’t excuse his actions but he just  _ understood  _ it more. He didn’t get the chance to vocalize that before his dad’s passing but he did pick the guitar back up. He was more sympathetic.

 

Lance was an adult now and he did love his life to some extent. It wasn’t perfect and sometimes he’d struggle to make ends meet (he also hated his job but that's besides the point) but he loved connecting with people through music. He loved playing in a band with his best friend and roommate, Hunk. Granted, they had recently lost their bassist so it was a bit difficult to play with only two people, but they could figure it out. They could put up ads on craigslist or something in hopes of finding a new one. Chad was kind of a shitty guy and Lance was sure that there were better bassists out there. Who the fuck is named Chad anyways? Terrible name really.

 

That’s where Lance was though, scrolling through online forums in hopes of recruiting a new member for their group, if only temporary. Lance thought about asking Allura on as a permanent member, had even attempted to do so. She wasn’t the best bassist ever- she was a much better guitarist really- but she could fill in the spot they needed until they could find someone more suited for the job. She was more than willing to do so anyways. She was sweet like that.

 

It wasn’t that Lance hadn’t asked her previously to join their band as one of their guitarists but she just wasn’t interested. Allura just didn’t have the same drive for music that Lance and Hunk had. She liked it but her dreams didn’t rest in their indie-rock band; she didn’t  _ love  _ it. She was studying to be a veterinarian as well so that took up a lot of her time. It’s what she committed herself too and Lance could respect that. Lance hated to impose on her, he knew how seriously she took her schooling, but they needed someone at least for this weekend because they had already booked to play a show and they didn’t want to cancel it. They needed the exposure.

 

He lost track of time though and before he knew it, his computer clock blared a time that accused him of being late for his job at the retail store he worked at. It was a shitty job; he hated how people wanted to complain about everything that was out of his control and he hated his coworkers but he needed the pay more than he needed his sanity or faith in humanity. He couldn’t afford to lose it but if he was continuously late like this then he was putting his only stable source of income in jeopardy. The money they made at shows wasn’t enough to pay bills and that was only if they managed to make any money that night. Ticket sales always went directly to the venues.

 

Lance shut his laptop down, shot up, and scrambled to gather his things. He needed to shower but he didn’t have time for it now. Today was already going to be a bust, he could tell but he knew he had done it to himself. He flew out the door, down the stairs, and into his car as quickly as he could. He started it up with some complaints from the engine and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t going at least 10 over the speed limit.

 

His manager was there waiting impatiently for him to arrive. Her name was Sam, a brunette woman nearing 30 who always kept her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she herself was always just as uptight. He liked Mandy more because she was sweet and funny but Mandy only worked part time now because she had her baby to look after. A girl named Renee. So more often than not, he was stuck with Sam who would find anything and everything to write him up for.

 

“You’re late,” she huffed as if it wasn’t obvious, arms folded in irritation. She had crow’s feet around her eyes, probably from glaring at puppies too often or some evil shit like that.

 

No, what? Lance had no idea he was late! Jesus christ, he was a college drop out but he wasn’t an idiot.

 

“Yep,” was all he felt inclined to respond with.

 

“What’s your excuse this time McClain?”

 

_ I’d rather blow my own brains out than have to work another shift with you breathing fire down my neck. _

 

“Don’t got one. Sorry Sammy.”

 

She rolled her eyes. He hated it when she did that. Sometimes he wished she’d roll her eyes so far back that they’d pop right out of her head. “You’re lucky Bret won’t let me fire you otherwise you would’ve been out of here a month ago. I’m writing you up though.”

 

It wasn’t the first time she had told him that. He grit his teeth and slid past her to clock in. He just had to bare with it. Arguing with Sam wasn’t going to make him feel better nor was it going to do him any favors in the long run. At best he’d end up with a killer migraine. 

 

Fuck Sam. He was a hard worker, she just made it more difficult for him to find any ounce of motivation in an already dead-end job. Whatever, he was just on the registers today and it was the morning shift. They were rarely busy in the mornings.

 

He leaned forward against the counter on his elbows, bored out of his mind. Mornings were slow but honestly, business was always slow here. Mornings were just the worst. He just wanted to make Sam’s life harder by doing absolutely nothing, not that he really had the drive to do anything at this point. They had lost their bassist and Sam had ruined any semblance of a decent mood he may have managed to muster up in the name of good customer service. Quitting and living on the streets was looking so much more appealing all of the sudden.

 

The ding of the door alerted Lance to a customer entering but he didn’t bother looking over, he just gave his usual mandated greeting and alerted the individual that all of their sportswear was forty percent off. Or maybe it was thirty? Lance couldn’t remember. He just continued to stare straight ahead, hoping that his eyes would melt right out of their sockets. Morbid but whatever, intrusive thoughts were weird like that. Normally he’d walk around and try to organize things to keep himself busy when they were this empty but today he was just going to wait out the entire six hours at his register station. Three cheers for his passive aggressive tendencies. Maybe that would be a good name for a song?

 

A boy walked up, handing him a filled out application. He looked deader than Lance felt. Lance gave a huff and took it. They got applications all the time but almost no one else was ever hired. He opened the drawer and shoved the piece of paper in with the rest where it would remain for months before someone remembered to clean it out. Who even used paper applications anymore? Everyone did everything online these days. It was more convenient anyways.

 

There was no way this kid was going to get hired anyways. His hair was a mess, long and tangled. It looked like it was even starting to dread from the miscare. It didn’t matter that he was just turning in an application, he should still try to look presentable in case the manager wanted to see him which she surely wouldn’t in this state. Showing up in sweatpants and a shirt with a hole in the hem was kind of unprofessional. He had an ugly scar running down the side of his face and neck. Lance felt guilty because that was incredibly rude to think and he was glad he at least had some self control to keep himself from saying that aloud. 

 

“Uh… thanks I guess,” he mumbled. He seemed a bit off-put by Lance’s demeanor but he really couldn’t bring himself to care. Lance guessed the lip ring was sort of hot but he was never that into the emo-types.

 

“Mhm,” Lance responded, waving the guy off, giving him a quick glance before he went back to listly dreaming of painting the store’s walls with his brains.

 

He left with a huff, stomping his feet as he exited the store. Bad attitude. That was a definite nope in Lance’s book. He would have to remember to throw out the guy’s application later. It’s not like he would’ve gotten the job anyways and Lance didn’t want to have to suffer through working with someone like him. His job was already bad enough with Sam. He didn’t need a Sam 2.0 and with Lance’s luck, the boy would probably get promoted and just make Lance’s life even more of a Hell.

 

The rest of the day went by without much of a fuss until Sam called him over to tell him that there was a problem in the men’s room and he needed to go clean it up. He stalked over, passing the sportswear which stated that it was actually twenty percent off and he had been wrong earlier, whining the entire time. She scolded him for it of course. He’d bet good money that she got off on that.

 

When Lance entered the bathroom though he was met with the absolute worst smell to which he had to pull his shirt up over his nose. The odor was coming from a specific stall and said stall in question was covered in actual shit. It was also on the walls which… Lance had no idea how that happened or even  _ why _ . God people were so fucked up sometimes. This is the kind of shit that made people atheists. No pun intended.

 

Sam had followed behind him, forcing a mop and bucket into her employee’s hands.

 

“Yeah, no. Fuck this, I’m not cleaning this,” he said, shoving the mop and bucket back at her. He threw his hands up in a surrender, hoping he could be spared this monstrosity.

 

“Excuse me?” She looked pissed, as much as she goot anyways with her left hand covering her nose and mouth.

 

“Not doing it.”

 

“Uh, yeah you are Lance.”

 

“Am I going to get fired if I don’t?”

 

“Well, no, I can’t fire you for this but-”

 

“Then I’m not doing it.”

 

“-but I can write you up McClain. Two in one day, that’s a record even for you.”

 

“Then write me up but I’m  _ not  _ cleaning this. Hasta la later Sammy.” Before she could argue with him anymore, Lance left the bathroom, gagging on his way out. Sure, Sam would probably make his life worse after this but he didn’t get paid enough to deal with  _ literal shit _ .

 

Lance was lounging around in his living room with Hunk, both of them having just eaten dinner and trying to figure out what to do about getting a new bassist. Allura could only cover for them for so long and Lance already felt bad enough pulling her away from her studies. 

 

“How was work?” Hunk asked him, having just finished his third slice of pizza they ordered. Pineapple. Lance hated the idea of pineapple pizza until Hunk persuaded him into trying it. He now refused to eat pizza without the topping. For the record, tomato is a fruit and is already on pizza, the argument that fruit doesn’t belong on pizza is completely invalid.

 

Lance groaned and sunk lower into his seat, tossing his paper plate on the floor to which Hunk complained. “Horrible.”

 

“Horrible?”

 

“ _ Terrible _ .”

 

“Oh no.”

 

Lance whined. “Stop I’m serious. It was the worst day of my  _ life _ .”

 

“The worst day of your life?!”

 

“Hunk.”

 

Hunk chuckled. “Sorry buddy. What happened?”

 

“I was late.”

 

“As one is.”

 

Lance huffed. “ _ Hunk _ .”

 

“Sorry, I’ll stop.” He was still laughing to himself though. Traitor.

 

“Thank you. Sam kept giving me shit which isn’t nothing new but then she gave me  _ literal shit _ .”

 

Hunk blinked owlishly at his best friend. “Um… what?”

 

“Dude, I don’t know what happened but somebody’s ass like, exploded in the men’s room.”

 

“Ew, dude.”

 

“Yeah man, it was all over the walls and Sam wanted me to clean it up.”

 

“Okay stop, I’m eating. This is way too graphic.”

 

“Ugh sorry.”

 

“Did you do it?”

 

Lance snorted. “No. I just told her to write me up if she wanted.”

 

“You’re going to end up getting fired.”

 

“I’m fine with that as long as I  _ never  _ have to deal with that. It was so bad Hunk I didn’t even think that was  _ possible _ . She probably did it herself just to ruin my life. She’s out to get me Hunk!” He whined some more and slunk down against the arm rest.

 

Hunk chuckled, taking a drink of Mnt. Dew straight from the bottle. That would probably gross most people out but Lance was the one who started it and Hunk just sort of followed suit. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to drink it anyways. It was only the two of them who lived here. He started surfing the TV channels once the South Park marathon ended.

 

“Then these two ladies came in and they were in a shitty mood or something. I greeted them because like, that’s what I’m supposed to do and they just glared at me!”

 

“Aw, I’m sorry buddy,” Hunk said. It didn’t sound very sympathetic though. He settled on what looked like Bob’s Burgers. Lance couldn’t really tell from his slumped position on the couch.

 

“It gets  _ worse _ . I told them that all of our sportswear is twenty percent off right? It’s protocol, I’m supposed to tell everyone that walks in. And get this, the older woman glares at me and says ‘my husband just died’! Like, sorry lady but I have no idea what the fuck you want me to do about that, I work in retail.”

 

Hunk choked. “You did  _ not  _ say that.”

 

“No, I said ‘sorry for your loss, sportswear is still twenty percent off’.”

 

“Oh my god,  _ Lance _ .”

 

Lance snickered, sitting up a little higher. “It was twenty minutes before my shift ended man and like, how do you even respond to something like that? They left almost immediately after and Sam was so pissed about it. She almost gave me a third write up but Bret told her that’s not something she can write me up for apparently.”

 

“No idea man. I’m so glad my job isn’t as bad as yours. I work on campus. Sometimes the essays that students bring in make me feel like I’m losing brain cells thought.”

 

Lance sighs. “Hunk you lucky dog. Never go into retail. It’s a nightmare.”

 

Hunk chuckles. “Yeah, from what you tell me, it sounds like Hell dude. You’re clearly braver than any U.S. marine,” he teased.

 

Lance sighed and put his hand up to cover his heart. “It’s an honor to serve my country in this way.” He let out a fake sob to which Hunk rolled his eyes at and Lance smirked mischievously.

 

“Hey, at least today wasn’t as bad as that time with the snake.”

 

Lance groaned. “Don’t bring up the snake Hunk.”

 

“How long did it take you guys to find it again?”

 

“An  _ hour.  _ It slithered into one of the vents. We had to have Christina crawl in and get it because she’s the smallest. She quit after that. Who even brings their pet snake in with them to try on clothes? Aren’t snakes blind or some shit?”

 

“No clue my dude. I’m not a snake expert.”

 

With a relaxed sigh, Lance sat up, raising his arms above his head and stretched out. His spine popped in a few places at the movement and Hunk cringed at the sound. Lance grinned and cracked his neck while he was at it to which Hunk complained. After cracking a few of his knuckles, Hunk shoved him off the couch and Lance cackled in response before getting to his feet.

 

“Anyways, I’m gonna go shower. I didn’t have time before work,” he stated, slipping his shirt off so he could throw it in the hamper on his way to the bathroom.

 

“Good call. You stink,” Hunk joked.

 

“Shut up.” Lance chucked his shirt at Hunk’s head and he laughed in response to the action, tossing it on the floor. Lance shut the bathroom door behind him, excited to be able to get all the dirt from the day off of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucked up and forgot my updating schedule lol


End file.
